Fateful Blessings
by Jessie Marsh
Summary: can the movements of fate hold blessings for the captain and the doctor?
1. Chapter 1

Ok, I'm not entirely sure myself yet where this one is going to go! But a little bit of cutesy wouldn't-you-love-Jean-Luc-to-be-there-when-you're-sick can't hurt for an opening, can it?

disclaimer: Paramount is big brother - I'm just borrowing his toys :)

hope you enjoy!

Jessie xx

FATEFUL BLESSINGS

"And there's no such thing as the common cold," he teased quietly as he entered the room.

"Funny guy," she grumbled from where she lay on the sofa. "Funny…" here she was interrupted by an attack of coughing.

He pulled a face and pushed her legs off the sofa, he sat next to her and pulled her up. She curled gratefully around his chest as her cough subsided. He felt her chest rise and fall quickly against his as she caught her breath and calmed down as he stroked her back.

She sighed, "I'm sorry."

He relaxed as she pulled away. "Why?"

"I'm not supposed to get ill," she grumbled, reaching to the table to pick up what turned out to be an empty glass. "Damn," she cursed and then regretted it as her irritated throat punished her exclamation by causing her to cough again. She leant heavily on the arm of the sofa and tried to stand up but quickly sat again as her head rewarded her with dizziness.

Jean-Luc rose instead and walked to the replicator ordering a glass of water and a cup of tea. He looked back at her as he waited for the drinks to appear. She sat on the edge of the cushion with her head in her hands looking as sorry for herself as she could. She still wore her uniform from yesterday having been too ill to care much for getting changed when she returned from sickbay. She had been asleep on the sofa when Alyssa had called round in the morning, concerned that she hadn't turned up for work and hadn't moved much from there since. He returned to the sofa and pulled her hands down from her face to press the glass of water into them. He waited for her to drink and settle her breathing again before sitting down opposite her as she pulled her legs onto the sofa and curled into the corner. He sat down opposite her and observed her from over his teacup.

"So, feeling better?" he asked.

Her reply was a scowl as she did not trust her throat to stand for her speaking again.

"Would you like some dinner?" he bit in his laughter.

She sighed and hung her head taking several breaths before answering quietly, "I'm not hungry. I should eat, but I can't be bothered. My head feels like there's a small man murdering a rat with a hammer in there. And I have no idea what's going on in my department…"

As she finished her head rose and she was visually agitated. He leant forward and placed his hands on hers. "Sick bay is fine, the virus has been confined. It seems that you are the last victim."

She pursed her lips.

"Lieutenant Hawk and Ensign Lynch are still in quarantine and Commander Riker is contemplating exactly what punishment to subject them to when they are strong enough to receive it."

"Like actually being ill isn't punishment enough," she managed a weak smile and leant forward for her water. He could tell the effort it took from the relieved expression she gave sinking back into the cushions. "Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

"My bridge duties are quite flexible, doctor. An especially useful coincidence as my chief medial officer is feeling unwell and refuses to have any of her staff near her."

"I don't want to …"

"The contagant was neutralised some fifteen hours ago. By yourself," his serious tone was controlled with levelled amusement. "Simply put, you are just punishing yourself for no reason."

She scowled.

"You know, you're adorable when you pull that face," he teased. "Now, are you going to let me look after you, doctor?"

She shook her head. "You have got better things to do…"

"I actually haven't. We won't arrive at Starbase 118 for another two days. My reports can be finished after dinner, while I ensure that you are getting a proper sleep."

"I don't want…"

"Dinner. I know. You said. But I know enough about home medicine to know that you need to keep your strength up. So, while you have a bath and change out of that uniform, I shall make some dinner."

"A bath?" the thought of moving that far clearly offended her.

"Wesley sent a message for you. I suggest you take that while I run you a nice warm bath."

He stood up and left her to turn to the console on the table and call up Wesley's message while he went into the bathroom and ran the taps.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, leaning heavily on the arm of the sofa then sinking back into it. "No, every time I stand up…"

"Come here," he said softly, reaching down and helping her to stand, supporting her into the bathroom. "I'll be just on the other side of the door, if you need anything…"

"No peeking," she grinned.

"No peeking," he promised.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the lovely reviews guys! I have a little more for you tonight (though I can't promise I'll always be this prompt with posting!) – just a little continuation of cuteness for the evening to give you all sweet dreams and add a little happiness into the world of these two.

Hope you enjoy!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>He looked up from putting the finishing touches to the dinner table to watch her come through the bathroom door, wearing a cream dressing-gown and drying her soft copper locks with a white towel.<p>

"Jean-Luc," she paused as she took in the table laid ready with steaming side dishes and warm crusty bread set in a softer cabin light punctuated by the glow of Andorian candles. "This is … beautiful."

"Nothing but the best," he replied gruffly pulling out a chair. "Now, my lady, dinner, is served."

"I'm hardly dressed for dinner," she looked down at her attire with a small smile.

"Then you're lucky that this maitre de does not worry about such things," he replied in kind.

Smiling, she took the seat that he pulled out for her, setting her towel to one side and placing a napkin on her knee. She watched as he poured them a glass of wine and water each before retrieving the main dish from the replicator and settling down opposite her at the table, indicating that she should start. Finding that her appetite was appeaseable to a fair amount of what he had set at the table, she attacked her plateful with a gusto until her stomach protested that she was full. She looked down at the plate, still half full and apologised.

"Don't worry about it," said Jean-Luc calmly setting his own knife and fork to an angle on his plate. "Now, I may I suggest that you get into your night clothes and let me take you for a walk in the holodeck. I believe I have found a programme that is quite the relaxing walk."

"Perfect for the recovering doctor?" she teased.

"Perfect for a quiet evening stroll," he confirmed and stood from the table beginning to clear away the dishes.

"I don't suppose I have a choice?" she asked wearily as the full effect of the food began to dissipate as rapidly as it had satisfied leaving in its place the exhaustion previously there.

"No," he said cheerfully, mindful of her change in tone yet determined to continue his administrations in as good a humour as he hoped to return to her. "You have had a nice relaxing bath, a good meal, now you need a good breath of fresh holodeck air and a good sleep."

"So I don't have a choice," she repeated, leaning on the table and rising slowly. "I'll go and put some clothes on."

He tidied while she changed. A voice in his head questioned when he had become so acquiescent to caring for someone else but was dismissed as he extinguished the candles by a simple thought – it was Beverly. He would do anything for her. The voice asked why he had come here tonight, no-one else had been admitted all day and Beverly was well-known for her fierce dismissals of aid when she was ill. The voice was once again silenced by the simple answer that somehow he had just known that she would not send him away.

Beverly mused similarly as she changed into a loose jumper and trousers. She had sent Alyssa away with a flee in her ear last night and again this morning when the young nurse had sent herself to find her commanding officer. It was hardly professional and she definitely owed the woman an apology, but she really did hate being disturbed when she felt like this. Pondering whether it was the bath and the meal that had made her feel better or Jean-Luc's presence, she encountered the singular question – why? Why hadn't she sent him away? Why had he come? She shot down both mysteries with one other – it was Jean-Luc. She would never send him away.

The dining area was clear when she returned, she was sure also that the rest of her living quarters seemed neater and more ordered. She wouldn't put it past him.

"Ready?" he asked as he stepped forward and offered her his arm.

She nodded, taking her place and allowing him to lead her out of her cabin.

Having not been on deck for nearly twenty-four hours, it was strangely refreshing to feel the air in the corridor and hear the distant movements and conversation of the crew as gamma shift went about its work and civilians entertained themselves. Although it was late, they passed a group of children playing hide and seek and politely ignored their unauthorised presence on the deck. To the despairing look of the parent they met in the turbo lift, they said nothing, but exchanged a humorous glance when the doors closed. She felt safe in his presence though to walk with him at this hour in the relaxed companionship they were in was alien; it was comforting after a day asleep on the couch feeling like a blood worm in a Klingon soup. She began to feel a bit silly, remembering how she had curled into him on the sofa and accepted, nay anticipated his acceptance of her action, her silent request for comfort. She suddenly felt the need to apologise and turned to him as the lift stopped but he seemed so relaxed in his role that it stopped her. This was surely a role that he was not accustomed to, a role that she ought not to have pressurised him into, but, a small voice in her head reasoned, he had come to her quarters, he had offered himself and planned his evening around her. The solution hit her, she must be dreaming.

He ordered up the programme that he had found earlier in the holodeck computer banks. Beverly hadn't spoken since they had left her cabin, he guessed she was still tired. He marvelled that she had allowed him to be in her space so long and allowed him to care for her. She would not know how much it meant to him to be able to do these small things for her this evening. How much he hated it when she was sick, rare as it was; how much he longed to protect her from harm, even though it was usually him that placed her in its way. They were friends, he knew that. He was just doing what friends did. As the computer quietly informed him that the programme was ready he touched the hand that rested on his arm.

"Ready?" he asked tantalisingly as he looked at her with eyes that held a thousand secrets.

"Ready," she replied in a voice that sounded a thousand thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the lovely reviews and to the peeps who have put in for story alerts – you guys make me smile and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

The part after this will have more of a plot to it – but in the meantime, need to finish off that evening!

So here is the next part – hope you enjoy!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>"Jean-Luc, do you mind if we stop for a moment?" she asked suddenly, her hand going out to lean against a tree for support as the wave of exhaustion that had been creeping behind them through the sandy forest threatened to engulf her.<p>

"Of course not," he replied, stopping and looking back at her, taking in her deflated appearance, feeling at once the anguish and responsibility of pushing her to take the exercise. "Computer…"

"No…" she waved her free hand, frustrated by her weakness. "It's a lovely programme, don't stop it."

"But you are not well," he argued, rising in her an amusement tainted with irritation which she was unable to give full justice too as her legs decided to share the fuzzy feeling that her head was fighting against.

"You knew that," she sighed, forcing herself to make eye contact with him for a second to try and communicate that she did appreciate his efforts and his time and wished that she could enjoy them more. The contact lasted for only a second as the dizziness returned and her view preferred the small grey stone a little to the left of her right foot. He had looked disappointed, concerned and something that she couldn't quite place.

"I did," he grumbled feeling guilty. "Was this a mistake? I'm sorry for putting you under this exertion."

"It's not your fault," she said quietly, turning to lean her back against the tree. "I did need to get out of my quarters. Just… over-estimated how much better I was feeling."

"You look awfully pale…" his remark earned him a familiar mixture of sarcasm and humour that he knew well.

"I always look pale. That's just the way I look," she fought back without her usual assertiveness, her submissiveness tearing at his strength.

"Not like this. You look ill Beverly."

"A startling revelation, seeing as how you found me asleep on the sofa," she swallowed as subtly as she could so as not to alert him whilst keeping her cough again at bay.

"I'm taking you to sickbay."

"No, you're not," she straightened against the tree and stepped away from it, furious at the thought of admitting herself to her staff. Almost furious at Jean-Luc for having the gall to act like he was giving orders when they were both off-duty. More than furious at herself for not spending more time with her friend off-duty.

"Beverly," he coaxed, his voice low.

"I'm fine. Just … walk me back to my quarters eh?" she bargained with him. "Let me get that good night's sleep you promised."

Unconvinced he offered her his arm and led the way back to her quarters, noting and frowned to himself at how much she was relying on him.

"Thank you, for a lovely evening," she whispered as she transferred her grip from his arm to the doorframe.

"No," he shook his head, questioning his ability to maintain his role but steeling himself to see it through without complaint. "You don't get rid of me that easy."

"Jean-Luc…" she wanted him to leave as much as she wanted him to stay. The thought of Jean-Luc staying with her, caring for her… she hated being ill. She would feel so embarrassed the next day.

"Beverly. I am not at all convinced that you should be left alone tonight and as you refused to let me take you to sick bay you will have to put up with me for a little longer."

Too weak to argue out loud, she allowed him to follow her into her quarters and left him in the living room while she changed. Her brain shouting in the background while she fought against the cries for rest that her body gave, trying to tell her something, but she couldn't work out what. Not yet. She was too tired.

He entered her bedroom when she was ready and she allowed him to cover her with the sheets.

"So, you've tucked me in. Are you going to read me a bedtime story too?" she teased, trying to buoy the last of the evening to a happy note, succeeding in setting off her throat.

"I'm glad to see that your illness has not effected your sense of humour," he said darkly when her cough had subsided. "What would you like?"

"Tell me about the Stargazer," she decided, swallowing and settling against the pillows, if he wasn't going to leave, he wasn't going to leave, and she'd always been curious. "Your first mission."

He settled in the chair opposite and talked about his first mission aboard the Stargazer, before he was Captain Picard, before he had met Jack Crusher, before he had met her. He talked until she fell asleep. Unwilling to return to his own quarters and leave her, he dimmed the lights and resumed his watch over her until he too fell asleep.

* * *

><p>He was disturbed from his sleep suddenly several hours later and opened his eyes, confused in the darkness and by the hacking sound he could hear, it took him a moment to recall his surroundings.<p>

"Beverly?" he called concerned.

"Here," she replied hoarsely as the coughing subsided.

"Computer, lights," he commanded as he stood from his chair and moved towards her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking more dishevelled than she had when he had first entered her quarters that evening. He sat beside her and let her lean against him, her breathing unsteady.

"I hate being ill," she whispered.

"I'm getting that," he mused as he rubbed her arm. "Do you want…"

"Water," she managed to gasp.

"Ok," he said and left her to go into the living area where the replicator obliged to his request. Turning to return, he noticed that she had followed him into the room and had resumed her place on the sofa.

"It's cooler in here," she explained as he handed her the glass. "Thank you."

"I knew it was unwise to leave you alone," he frowned.

"I'll be fine," she replied simply.

"You're burning up," the beads of sweat on her pale face scared him though he couldn't tell why. Not yet.

"It's just a fever. Just need to ride it out," she tried to assure him, tried to stop herself from trembling, tried to change the subject. "You look like you could do with some sleep."

"You don't get rid of me that easily. Here," he sat beside her on the sofa and invited her to curl up against him. She hesitated for a moment before letting his arms wrap around her and relaxing against his chest. "Did I finish my story earlier?"

She shook her head and laughed, then coughed, then shook her head again. It, whatever it was, could wait. He was still here. That was, for the moment, all that consumed her mind, all that mattered.

"I'll continue it now then," he shifted his arm slightly to cover her shoulders whilst pulling her ever so slightly tighter to him. He wanted to keep her safe, that was all that mattered, all that ever mattered. Her breath was light across him, her lips were smiling gratefully as she listened to the sound of his voice until she drifted off into sleep again.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay in posting, I'll admit this part has been a little tricky for me to put together! I've had a little trouble trying to construct a plot around my basic thought for this piece and so the background is probably completely off and it's a tad rough around the edges, but I kinda feel guilty for not updating so…

Hope everyone had a good Christmas and New Year

Thank you for the lovely reviews, I love to hear what you think and I hope you enjoy this part!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>Docking at Starbase 118, Riker turned to his Captain with his usual questioning look. Picard, distracted as he was at this pit-stop, still had to hold back a smile at the eager gleam in the First Officer's eye. Yes, it was rest-time. The man had freely admitted to him that he never knew what to do with his free-time, yet every time they came to a moment of reprieve, the schoolboy in Riker showed its remnants in the man's gaze to ask if it was time to run free, if only for a prescribed moment. Picard nodded once, as he was custom to do in his school-master response to Riker's unvoiced question. Riker turned his attention to the ship and announced the necessary precautions about the Starbase and the estimations of admittance to the Ship during its debrief and duty changes. When he was done, he dismissed the bridge crew and turned to his captain to be dismissed himself. Time with Deanna was softening him; Picard was sure as he assented to the officer's disappearance until their meeting in the morning. They were late ship-time in arriving at the base, so the admirals had suggested putting the meetings to the following day. Usually, Picard would have frowned and spent several hours pacing the Ready Room at the delay in protocol. However, on this occasion he had himself somewhere better to be.<p>

Beverly called hoarsely for him to enter as he got to her quarters having changed out of his uniform at her request. He had insisted that they were to go out to dinner at one of the restaurants on the base; she had insisted that they did so as inconspicuously as possible. He did not like to remember the last time they had been at Starbase 118. They had been much younger then.

She had regained much of her strength over the two days. She put it to his care. He put it to her submittance to treatment by Alyssa Ogawa. Beverly had finally allowed him to call Alyssa and had eventually allowed Alyssa to persuade her to attend to her, provided of course that Alyssa kept her tongue in check on reporting her condition to the rest of her team and told her everything that was going on in sickbay without her. Jean-Luc had remained attentive to her to a fault. His insistence at their outing tonight, as getting off the ship would do her as much good as sitting it out in her quarters, was as sweet as any request to take her to dinner had ever been. It was unusual for her to be ill for this long. Unusual for anyone to have such simple symptoms for so long in this century. Her mind worried away at the problem as his did but with a higher intensity that she wasn't ready to let on. But she didn't want him to think she was malingering. He had insisted that she take the time off to recover fully. She had insisted that she was fine. Dinner would be nice.

"You look lovely," he said as he entered, deciding to ignore the work that she was trying to tidy away before he saw.

"Thank you," she looked up as she pushed her research into one pile and put it on the shelf. "You don't look so bad yourself."

He tugged at his shirt, it was one of his favourites, and he sort of remembered her saying she liked it on a previous occasion. That was he admitted silently to himself on some level, an understatement. He recalled vividly her approval of it when they had taken shore leave on Betazed two years ago. Her dress was one of his favourites too, a beautiful deep blue that complemented her features and figure as it clung to her curves whilst remaining casual.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Where are we going?"

"Ah," he said as they left her quarters. "I thought that might be a surprise."

"You're lucky I trust you," she teased as she linked her arm through his.

He grinned to himself as he led the way off the ship. The few crew members that were still around to see him escort Beverly in civilian clothes didn't bother him. He didn't mind being seen with her. Being seen to be with her. He crossed himself, he wasn't with her. He was simply a friend supporting a friend at a low time. Looking after her. He probably owed it to her anyway, the amount of times she had looked after him, put him back together, held him together. He had fallen hard some years ago. Those feelings weren't quite gone, but they were a long time ago, he reminded himself.

She felt a little giddy as they left the ship and entered the Starbase. She was frankly astonished that he hadn't rejected her arm as they passed crew-members still on the ship. The light amusement that being near him and thinking about him caused such a lift for her from the darkness that had clouded over when she was left alone. To say that she appreciated his presence was an understatement; she remembered vividly the struggle to keep her emotions in check every time he came to her injured and hurt, recalled the overwhelming joy of being able to release him from her care back in one piece. Every time she needed him, he was there to put her back together, to hold her together. She had fallen a long time ago. She couldn't react to it, not yet, not ever, she reminded herself, it was enough that he was there.

He had reserved a quiet table in a Andorian restaurant, she knew that he enjoyed the experience of different foods, he knew that she enjoyed any cuisine more when it was prepared with fresh produce rather than through the molecular replicator.

"So, how did Lynch and Hawk react to their punishment?" Beverly asked, her lips tilting into a smile as she looked up from the menu.

"Oh," Picard met her gaze across his debate between two dishes. "I think they were suitably chastised. Particularly when Will explained that you were still off-duty due to their behaviour. I would say that they enjoyed the servicing of the shuttle bays."

"Those two were always trouble together," Beverly put her menu to one side. "Remember when they were both in engineering? Lynch had only been on the ship three weeks and Geordi was calling for them both to be reassigned."

"As far away from my engine room as possible," Picard recalled with some amusement the sight of his Chief Engineer fuming in his Ready Room the day that the chums had taken three hours to complete a thirty-minute task. He closed his menu as the waiter came over.

"The dreeak please," he ordered for himself and looked to Beverly. "And some spiced bread."

The waiter nodded and turned his attention to Beverly.

"The yutaan," she smiled. "And may we have some water for the table?"

The waiter nodded again and disappeared returning less than a minute later with the water.

Jean-Luc watched Beverly's expression as she fought against some cynical comment. He found himself transfixed by the minute ripples of her skin as her jaw clenched and relaxed with each wave of amusement that took her, she actually closed her eyes for a moment as the waiter placed the water on the table but as he realised it was only to compose herself so as to smile a thanks to the waiter before giving in to the giggles entirely and bowing her head to the table. Perplexed, he lifted the jug and poured them two glasses of the water.

When she looked at him, her eyes were alive with laughter; he couldn't help but smile though his curiosity was consuming him. "Beverly, what is so funny?"

"Our waiter," she took a sip of water. "Don't you recognise him?"

Picard frowned. "No, should I?"

"Very obliging, very prompt, very silent," Beverly poked his memory. She watched his expression change from curious to confused. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

Picard indicated she ought to continue.

"Starbase 118. We came here with Jack and Walker about three weeks before Jack asked me out. We were in this restaurant, he was our waiter, it was Christmas…"

"Oh…"

She bit her lip against the giggles as the waiter in question returned and placed two side plates and a basket of Andorian spiced bread on their table.

"Thank you," Jean-Luc responded automatically.

The waiter nodded and turned away again.

"Beverly…" Jean-Luc struggled against his own amusement now. "We are grown-ups. He probably doesn't remember us…"

Beverly looked up, still laughing silently. Her features were radiant. Despite the unfortunate coincidence of waiter choice for the evening, he congratulated himself on his choice in taking her out. It had torn at him since he had found her drained on her sofa two days previously…

"Penny?" she probed gently at his silent reverie.

He looked up; straight into her sparkling countenance now tempered with a concern for his quietude which he suddenly realised was the dull shard glint he found in her eye every time he closed her out. Spending time with her, he was noticing more and more that he knew her better than he had ever realised before. With a slight jolt he realised that she probably knew him as well, if not better, than anyone ever had before.

"I was just thinking about what happened on the planet…" he drifted. Should he have been thinking of the past that she had mentioned rather than the more recent history?

"I don't think that the virus was random, or inherent to the plant it came from," she ventured. Her own thoughts had passed surprisingly quickly over the Christmas Eve that the old friends had shared and back to the same problem as it had plagued her thoughts since Lieutenant Hawk had inadvertently touched the plant and awoken the cloud of polluted pollen that had engulfed the three of them. "I was taking soil samples around the bed where it was, there had been recent disturbance there, more recent than the survey reports suggested."

"So there is some validity in the science station's belief that someone has been surreptitiously interfering with the gardens?"

"Yes, but why? That's what I don't understand. The virus is clearly a weapon, but why hide it in a plant? Do we know any intergalactic terrorists who just happen to be florists?"

He laughed quietly as she threw the suggestion wildly into the mix. Her ability to find the absurd was often lost in the serious work that she did but it was still there, as it had been in the days of the past. On that particular occasion, he remembered happily as the waiter returned to their table once more to deliver their chosen dishes and to wish them a pleasant meal by way of a sly smile, she and Jack had found a common humour and entertained Walker and himself imagining ludicrous alternative conversations on the other tables.

"He does recognise us," she said quietly, lifting the water and refilling their glasses. "I'm sure of it."

"Beverly," he decided to include her in his thought. "I doubt anyone else in the restaurant is engaged in quite such neurotic considerations."

She threw her napkin at him. "I'm not being neurotic. But if you remember, Jack and I were not entirely finished involving him with the young chef when he came to serve our meals!"

"I do remember," he enjoyed her smile with her. "Vividly."

He was just thinking how really he should thank Lynch and Hawk for leading him to one of the more enjoyable meals he had had in recent memory when her own thoughts reverted to the same subject.

"Ensign Lynch came into sick-bay today," her voice was suddenly sombre. His expression changed to match. There was something coming that he didn't want to hear.

"He has the measles," she said blankly. "Something I have never actually seen. Not Earth measles. Everyone is immunised against that. Something in that virus…"

"It could be unrelated," he tried to reassure her.

She shook her head and lifted her fork. "Can I have my napkin back please?"


	5. Chapter 5

Hiya, sorry for the delay in posting this next part; life's a funny one sometimes! Thank you so much for the reviews they mean a lot to me, I'm glad you're enjoying this story.

I'll stop blathering on now and get on with it… lol!

Hope you enjoy

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>Beverly was grateful of her captain's presence at the conference; it was rare that she was called upon to attend the full mission debrief, normally finding her requirement to finalise reports to inform Picard's feedback or to give a presentation of medical research and findings from their latest exploits at a seminar consisting only of medical and science personnel. Generally, time at a Starbase was for her a respite in active service and a period of stocktaking and overseeing the replenishing of supplies in between clearing her terminal of pending paperwork. Being personally involved in the dramas that had unfolded during their last mission as well as a senior research co-ordinator on the Enterprise meant that her usual Starbase activities had been reorganised among her staff so that she could spend what promised to be several long hours in the presence of higher ranks. She was grateful of knowing at least one of them.<p>

Picard looked around the room as they entered, temporarily distracted by the variety of colours in the usually red room. The normal predominant presence of command level officers was disrupted by the security and science colleagues called together to discuss the situation that the Enterprise had investigated on Criala 3. As the Enterprise's mission had only been to investigate claims of intrusion in the experimental gardens, the materialisation of the paranoia into fact had called for a strategic plan involving the three denominations. He recognised Beverly's slight unease and attempted to offer silent assurance through frequently looking in her direction before he back-tracked on the chance that he might be exacerbating her discomfort.

Worf looked similarly off-footed at his rare requirement in the conference room, Beverly noted as she sat between him and Will.

"All this for some floral terrorists?" Will muttered in her ear.

She glanced at him, catching the gleam in his eye before his expression hardened and they stood as the Admiral's party arrived.

"Thank you," Admiral Tumal, a Vulcan, said as he took his place at the head of the table. Seated either side of him was a familiar face for the Enterprise crew, Katherine Pulaski and a stern looking humanoid who they recognised as the Crialan commander of the science station on Criala 3.

"I am sure that the situation is familiar to you all, but I should like to begin with an introduction to the Federation plans on Criala 3 from Commander Frial before Captain Picard briefs us on the Enterprise's findings."

Beverly listened intently, assimilating the familiar information as it was recited with her own findings. Criala 3 had suffered ecological devastation after a period of prolonged civil war in their solar system. The projects sponsored by the Federation were to re-establish areas rich in vegetation before the atmosphere became uninhabitable. The teams at work there had reported strange security breaches in the 'Gardens' which they suspected were by the opposing side. She was aware that the others from her ship knew Katherine Pulaski as she had served on the Enterprise while she had herself been covering as head of Starfleet medical some years previously. She also knew that Pulaski had returned to the research branch of Medical after she had left the Enterprise, a place from which molecular transport was rarely called for as she had heard from Chief O'Brien of Pulaski's hatred of the transporter.

* * *

><p>"We arrived as scheduled at Criala 3 and reported to Commander Frial at the science station in orbit above the planet to discuss the suspected alien activities on the surface. Several teams were transported to the surface to investigate the perimeter fences and garden security as well as to confirm the disturbances and determine the nature of interference at the sites given to us by the Commander's staff. It was the team led by my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Crusher, that first encountered the infected areas where they noted that the ground had been disturbed by recent activity, more recent than logs suggested. It was discovered that one of the plants was not native to the plantation, at the inadvertent actions of one of my officers, the plant emitted a gaseous cloud that engulfed the three officers of that team. Dr. Crusher performed an immediate preliminary examination of the officers and finding them to have residual from the emission on their uniform and skin, requested transportation to a quarantined area of sickbay aboard the Enterprise. There she performed routine tests to determine the nature of the cloud and to eliminate any danger to the officers in question. It was discovered that there was infiltration of the body's defence systems at the cellular level causing the presentation of simple illnesses to which the officers had previously been immunised against. They were quickly treated and seemed to be recovering."<p>

"Seemed to be?" Katherine Pulaski frowned at him from the head of the table, having served with Picard, she felt sure she knew when he was hiding something, he seemed reluctant to admit that Crusher had failed in her initial attempts to combat the virus.

"It seems," he faltered slightly, Pulaski's abrupt interruption reminding him of one of the reasons why he had been so grateful when her tour of duty on board the Enterprise had come to an end; the piercing ability of the woman scared him a little more than he would freely admit. "That while the initial illnesses presented due to the infection were quickly neutralised, further incidents have arisen. We are not certain at this time whether this is due to the same causal factors however."

"When will this be determined?" Admiral Tumal asked.

"We are currently running tests on all three members of the away team that were infected, the results should be complete in the next hour."

"Very well," the Admiral said. "I hope you will understand if we do not wait for the results before planning the next step."

Picard nodded and took his seat. Beverly was sure he looked at her for the briefest of moments, she was unsure what he was trying to communicate. At times she wished she had Deanna's ability to discern when a look meant one thing and when the same look meant another in a different state of mind. She wondered if anyone else had noticed the subtlest tension between her and the Captain that she had. She wondered if he sensed her worry.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys, thank you for the reviews, they make me smile and I do appreciate the feedback, I'm so glad you've been reading and enjoying so far – here's the next part.

Hope you enjoy

Jessie xx

"I think we've covered every crack," Beverly pushed the hair back from her cheek where it had fallen from it's clip as she concentrated on the screen in front of her, willing it to be telling her the truth. It had taken nearly seven hours since the meeting on Starbase 118 to finish a comprehensive rebuilding of the immune systems of both Ensign Lynch and Lieutenant Hawk. She leant more heavily than she meant to on the bio-bed as she rose from her seat. "Come back in the morning," she addressed both men. "We'll run the tests again, but I would say you're healthier than you were before."

They smiled weakly at her levity and muttered genuine thanks to her staff as they left sick-bay as quickly as possible. Beverly sighed and turned to switch off the monitors.

"Doctor…" a familiar voice pushed at her ears.

"I know," she almost whispered. "My turn."

Summoning the most convincing smile to her lips, she turned to Alyssa and Dr. Firda, the silver skinned Crialan whose quick wit and consummate discretion had endeared herself to Crusher as a trusted member of the sick-bay team despite this being her first posting aboard a starship. "We'll go next door."

Alyssa followed the two doctors out of the room, she knew her place in rank and skill and recognised the strength of the bond that had formed between her and her superior. Crusher would let very few of her staff tend to her, if it wasn't for the number of hands and eyes required for the procedures and tests that they had to carry out it would just be her and Alyssa doing the work. Firda was quiet, never talked about work outside of sickbay unless ordered to and she shared a similar humour to the older woman. Alyssa suspected that the Crialan had been initiated to the inner-circle partly to ease the guilt the young doctor felt on behalf of her planet's situation.

"Three coffees, one and a half sugar, just a little milk," Beverly requested of the replicator as they entered the side-ward. She watched as Firda and Ogawa exchanged smiles over the fact that the three women enjoyed their coffee in exactly the same way at this point in the day. Firda had been working with Dr. Selar on Ensign Lynch, Alyssa had come on shift just an hour ago but had experience at working in small teams following precise instructions. She couldn't have wanted any other near her. Except maybe one.

"Am I interrupting?" his tones whispered in her ear as she removed the coffees from the slot.

"Not at all," she lied, smiling at him before carrying the coffees to the table by the side of the bio-bed whose monitors the other two were setting up. "I'll be back in a minute ladies."

She steered him out to the doorway. "What is it, Captain?"

"Beverly," he chastised quickly, his eyes bearing into hers, reading the exhaustion, the apprehension.

"I don't need you to hold my hand," she beat him down quickly. She was sure now that he could sense everything she felt, that he knew her. Probably as well as she knew him.

"Very well, what would you like for supper?" he changed tack.

Questioning him through tired eyes, wondering how well she actually did know him; she felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude to her friend. "I…don't mind."

"Let me know when you're done," he said softly.

"Ok," she whispered, touched by his attentiveness. Surely he had better places to be. "Right then ladies," she turned to her team. "Let's make a start."

Alyssa frowned. She knew well how Crusher hated to need, but her boss's casual manner toward her condition seemed too business-like, too detached. Almost as though she knew the outcome of a race and the challenge seemed a waste of energy.

"I know, I know," Beverly rolled her eyes, she had worked for so long with Alyssa that she understood the woman's frustration with her manner at these times, times when she felt so dependent. She sat awkwardly on the side of the bed and took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes as the two young women ran simultaneous tricorder sweeps of her body. They had programmed the two tricorders to create between them a more comprehensive analysis to work with. Two quiet beeps later the information was transferred to the large display unit in the wall. The three of them stood before it, quietly studying the results.

Beverly raised her eyebrows, "Well, this isn't going to take long. Sorry."

Dr. Firda suppressed a smile. "I suggest we start here," she pointed with one long blue-nailed finger to the simplest fix. "Treat, immunise, retest."

"This is going to take more than one cup of coffee," Beverly grinned darkly at Alyssa who tried desperately to remove all traces of worry from her smile.

"Doctor," Alyssa said quietly two hours later while Firda was out of the room to retrieve a forgotten piece of equipment.

"Yes, Alyssa," Beverly replied resignedly.

"You know that…"

"That that," Beverly pointed to one of the remaining faults on the screen. "Is what it is? Yes, I know. Let's just do what we can."

Alyssa nodded quietly and looked toward the door as Firda returned.

"Right," Firda's melodious tones chimed as she set the test-tube into the reader. "A measure of Antiferticsan should complete the compound."

An hour later, Beverly dismissed her staff, ordering them to relax and sleep.

"I'll sort the report out," she assured them. "Thank you both."

They left her in silence. She sighed as she returned to her office to review her notes, it was the most that had been added to her medical record since she had been pregnant with Wesley and apparently susceptible to any slight virus circulating the lab. Though as Nana had pointed out, taking a module in the molecular study of viruses wasn't the wisest of choices she could have made at the time. Pulling a hairbrush from her drawer, she tugged it through her hair whilst instructing the computer verbally to construct the report. She called Dr. Hill through to confirm that all was well in sickbay before pressing on her communicator.

"Crusher to Picard?"

"Picard here, all done doctor?"

"Just need to sign off some paperwork," she picked up her stylus.

"I'll come and meet you," he signed off.

Smiling she called up Lynch and Hawk's notes. Five hours and she missed his presence? She crossed herself for becoming accustomed to his being around; it wouldn't, it couldn't, last forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Heya, thank you for continuing to read and to review :) here's the next part - hope you enjoy!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>The next morning, Alyssa Ogawa did something she never normally did. She walked into Dr. Crusher's office without knocking or announcing her presence until she was standing in front of the desk, watching Beverly calibrate the hypospray.<p>

"Dr. Firda told me you hiding in here," she admonished her boss less harshly than she felt like doing but more than she should if she wanted to keep her job.

"Were those her exact words?" Beverly questioned sharply, refusing to look up as she applied the hypospray to her arm and pushed the button.

Alyssa cocked her head disapprovingly to one side and waited for Beverly to look up. She was familiar with the red-head's stubborn nature but could not ignore the fear and worry that she had experienced after quietly inquiring of the equally scarlet-locked Crialan doctor the whereabouts of her CO.

"Ok, fine, I'm in my office, you found me," Beverly sighed. "Now you can carry on and tell me that I shouldn't be treating myself despite the fact that it's a perfectly simple procedure that can easily be self-administered."

"Neat," Alyssa shot back harshly. "I read your reports…"

"You're checking my paperwork?" Beverly was suddenly incensed. The exhaustion and frustration at her illness were over, the overhanging drag of yesterday was behind her, the challenge in front of her now was at the very least more manageable if only because she knew what it was. "What did you find that made you come storming into my office? Not even the captain …"

"Would dare, I know," Alyssa was past understanding her own emotions as she stood firmly, determined to reach Beverly. "You wouldn't tolerate it as much as he won't tolerate inaccurate reports. Oh I know it isn't strictly false, just a slight oversight?"

"Have Hawk and Lynch been in yet?" Beverly asked side-stepping Alyssa's fury.

"Just arrived now," Alyssa recognised something in Beverly's eyes as her boss looked up.

"Then let's make sure that not all of yesterday's work was in vain," Beverly stood up, replacing the padd she had been working from into her desk drawer and walking past Alyssa. As she reached the door she sighed and turned to face the angry nurse. Alyssa was one of her most trusted members of staff; she was dedicated, skilled and caring, qualities that could not help but endear her to anyone who knew her and Beverly could not help but respect these characteristics as much as she respected the one who held them. She relented. "Look, I know what you're saying. And no, I didn't tell him last night. And I did omit certain details from the official report. Details that the whole of Starfleet does not need to be aware of. Under security code are the supplementary notes. Chief Medical Officers are allowed a certain amount of discretion, if that's acceptable to their nurses?"

Alyssa swallowed hard, recognising both her reprimand and reprieve.

"I'm not in denial, not yet," Beverly smiled kindly, keeping every trace of sadness from her expression and softening her tone. "And I was kinda hoping, if you're not too mad at me, that you and Dr. Firda might join the away team with me this afternoon?"

"Of course," Alyssa said humbly, wondering if she could ever work for anyone else as she followed her superior into the main bay of their domain.

* * *

><p>"Well if that's everything?" Picard brought the meeting to a close.<p>

The senior staff around the table nodded in agreement. It had been a relatively short meeting, the details of the plans discussed yesterday finalised in preparation for their return to the terrorised gardens on Criala 3. All departments reported ready and Beverly had happily reported that both Hawk and Lynch had returned to sick-bay that morning in the same healthy condition that they had left it the previous evening. She had neglected, as Alyssa would have noted had she been there, her own continuing treatment; but even Jean-Luc was not privy to that knowledge yet.

"We shall be arriving in orbit around Criala 3 in approximately two hours, away teams to be assembled in transporter rooms two through five," Riker reminded them all as they stood up. "Beverly," he caught her quietly as they left the room and drew her to one side, she glanced at Picard as he walked past looking in her direction. "I understand if you don't want to lead a team this time..."

"Will, I'm fine, honestly," she met his oceanic eyes with her own. "I'm ready for anything, promise."

"Well I'm sure that has more than a little to do with the Captain's attentive cares," Riker joked as they exited into the turbo lift rather than the bridge, Will being on his way to further brief the science teams. "Relax, it's fine. Not everyone knows about it. And those that do are just grateful that you allow someone at least to take care of you when you're ill."

"I hate being ill," Crusher agreed smiling warmly.

"We hate it too," Will grinned playfully.

She punched him lightly on the arm. "I'm not that bad!"

"No," he rubbed his arm in jest. "And, well, we're glad you're not."

She read the serious undertones of his words. "Will…"

"Hey," he frowned at her sudden tone.

"Thank you," she leant toward him and planted a friendly kiss on his cheek before leaving the turbo lift at her destination.

* * *

><p>As all was well on the bridge, Picard requested that he and Commander Riker be called to their stations when they were twenty minutes away from the planet's orbit and retired to his ready room to read yesterdays reports. Usually he would read the daily reports on the evening, but he had been otherwise occupied. He smiled as he remembered his quiet supper with Beverly. She had been tired, but that was to be expected after the tedious task of rebuilding immune systems and of course the humiliation of having her own molecular codes under the scrutiny of her staff. She wasn't pushing him away yet though. He was pleased. He valued her both as a member of his team and as a life-long friend for she was quickly becoming that he realised. The distance that they tried to maintain seemed always the more painful when it had to be resumed after some falter on one of their parts, he was determined that this time, when she decided it was right to resume it, it would not hurt so much, that he would retain from this dalliance into familiarity the blessing of being able to care for her however much he hated that he had had to.<p>

Frowning as he noted that in sick-bays notes was an encrypted file in addition to the usual reports and the extended notes on Ensign Lynch and Lieutenant Hawk, he began as he usually did with the engineering logs.

Satisfied that the logs so far reconciled with his own experience of the previous day and with the bridge reports, he hesitated on voicing his command code to access the additional details in the sickbay reports.

"Captain Picard to the bridge," came the comm. Call, rousing him from his seat. He closed down the reports still showing on his terminal reasoning that if Beverly had additional information to impart with him, she would. Besides, it might just be a complicated string of medical jargon, unintelligible to him but required by Kate Pulaski's research team back at Starbase 118. He gave the computer agreement to send copies of the reports to Starbase 118 and closed down the unit. Straightening his jacket, he rejoined the bridge crew as they reached Criala 3. By the time they had achieved orbit and Riker had left his chair for transporter room two, he had almost forgotten about the security coded log.


	8. Chapter 8

Hiya, thank you for all the lovely reviews! I promise that everything will be explained soon! Unfortunately, to get to that, I had to write this first…

Hope you enjoy!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>Frustrated, Picard watched his first officer exit his ready room. He pushed the reports away across the desk. No leads had been found on the planet. Whoever was sabotaging the rebuilding of Criala3 wasn't leaving any clues behind. Diplomatic ties between the neighbouring planets were so poor that it was taking even Data hours to compile his report on narrowing the list of suspects down to something more concrete. His optimism at solving this mystery quickly was diminishing rapidly. Knowing that Beverly and the other science department heads were working as fast as they could, brought him no comfort; investigation at the molecular level that they were facing took time. Time. It was 19:00 hours. While they were under pressure to complete this, he had agreed that normal hours should be maintained until necessary to break that. He frowned. Planning dinner was one thing, pulling Beverly away from research was quite another.<p>

She ran a hand over her head, fingers finding the knot forming in her neck and gently digging at it. They had collected a sample of nearly every plant in the damn garden. Reconciling molecular structure with Crialan literature was taking forever. Dr. Firda worked tirelessly, her metabolism slowed in concentration; however all the coffee in the replicator was not going to keep Alyssa and Beverly going throughout the night. They had all been on shift for nearly twelve hours and despite a break for lunch during the away mission, since they had returned to the ship mid-afternoon they had been working constantly. The senior officer looked at her team.

"Come on," she said. "We've done enough for one day. Let's pull the report together so far and go for some supper."

Firda's black eyes gave nothing away as she looked up from her work. Beverly knew the young woman was taking this mission to heart; it was, after all, her planet and her family's village. But working round the clock was not going to do any of them any good. Alyssa gratefully started to send the information from her terminal to Beverly's.

An hour later they were sitting around a table in Ten Forward enjoying a mezze of Crialan side dishes. Firda had happily programmed several recipes into the computer system at the disguised request of Captain Picard so that during the mission, everyone on board could feel involved in the events. The culture of her planet was at risk of extinction, it was important that the crew were aware of the stakes. Beverly remembered the conversation with Jean-Luc at the dinner table in between bouts of embarrassed giggles over the silent waiter. She had been touched as she always was by his personal interest and fervent beliefs in the cultural heritage under threat.

"I really like this one," said Alyssa, leaning forward to serve herself another helping of a spiced flower dish. Purple petals glistened in the bowl, highlighted by green stalks coated in a sort of sweet-peppery glaze which complemented the sharp-paprika-like taste of the petals surprisingly well.

"Cenatr," Firda replied. "My grandmother's recipe. The flower itself is a native of Criala3. It just doesn't grow on the other planets in the system. No-one knows why."

"There's a bed of them in the south corner of the gardens," Beverly mused whilst toying with the red strips of well-seasoned roots on her plate. "They're such a lovely colour."

"All of your planet is so colourful," Alyssa agreed. "It's beautiful. Like a painting."

Firda laughed quietly. "I never knew 'til I was ten that there were any other pictures. When we landed on a planet where the natives were peach-skinned, I thought I was in a dream world!"

Alyssa and Beverly laughed in reply. It really was one thing, Beverly thought as she observed her companions, that life had evolved to a point where such different looking people from such discrete backgrounds could socialise as easily as they did.

"Am I interrupting?" Captain Picard stood slightly back and to the left of Beverly's chair as the three women made to stand up. "At ease," Picard waved his hand. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal."

"Not at all," Beverly smiled openly. "Will you join us?"

She noted that he glanced apprehensively at the company; his concerns about professional distance clearly causing his slight hesitation. But it was a hesitation that only Data with his insane ability to calculate percentages and differences; or someone who knew him very well, would have noticed. Firda and Alyssa seemed slightly stiff as he smiled sincerely and took a seat.

"I see that our replicators have done your recipes proud, Dr. Firda," he nodded politely to the Crialan.

"It certainly has, Captain. I am glad I have been able to share some of our culture with the Enterprise," Firda was as courteous as she was conscientious, Beverly noted as the chimes of her colleague rang. Jean-Luc continued a brief conversation with the pretty doctor about the cultural significance of the flowers while Beverly studiously avoided Alyssa's eye which she realised was fixed ever so slyly upon her.

"I understand that your village has a particular tradition around this time," Jean-Luc had clearly ran out of botany, Beverly grinned to herself as she took a sip of the bubbly blue drink that Firda had recommended.

"Yes," Firda replied quietly. "I believe it translates as something like 'the flower gala'."

"I know that Commander Frial is eager to re-establish the occasion, even suggesting that our investigations had best be finished in time for the appropriate evening," Jean-Luc had a wry smile on these occasions that showed his dry humour in a way that Beverly found most endearing.

"It would be wonderful if that were the case," Firda responded politely. "My grandmother always loved the festival. She used to make our dresses. Mine and my mother's. Mama never was as good a seamstress as Nana."

"She was one of the garden women, wasn't she?" Beverly pried gently, racking her brains for the personal information she had gleaned over the young woman's tour of duty.

"Yes, she was working the day that the cloud came," Firda looked down at her plate as she referred to the terrorist attack that had begun the physical violence of the civil war in the solar system that she had once called home.

"I am sorry to hear that," Jean-Luc said kindly.

"People always are," Firda replied without malice. "It was where she would have wanted to be though. When the wars started she sent me with my father; he was ready to explore, she said. She had all she needed in her home."

"That's so sweet," Alyssa joined the conversation, having determined that Beverly had received her unspoken remonstration and unable to maintain her silence out of politeness.

"She was a remarkable woman," Firda smiled at her friend, for she realised that Alyssa had become that. "She could tame any wild flower and bring out the beauty in every thorn. At the galas she worked all week before to make the arches and the stage a thing so splendid that folk would speak of them until the next."

The four of them enjoyed further conversation about the 'flower gala'; Picard excused himself to leave the women alone, satisfied that Beverly was safe and well. He decided that she might appreciate his distance now that she was feeling better and to keep his vow, he argued that his initiation of the space would be preferable in shortening the odds of feeling how he normally did when she pushed him away.

Mid-way through the next day, the science departments had completed the analysis of initial information and engineers joined to programme tricorders to be able to detect anomalies in the species that were native to the gardens as well as alien plants. The gardens which were formed over one continent of the planet were sliced into sections on huge maps that ordained the walls of each research lab; science and engineering teams spent the following two days systematically investigating each section. All offensive foliage was identified and safely destroyed. No further attacks had been detected, put down to the presence of the Federation flagship being in attendance. Yet, short of pulling back, allowing an attack and therefore having to go through the gardens again, Picard was down on his options for catching any culprits red-handed. Beverly had formed a further two teams in her department to analyse the vaporous virus, she was fast becoming an expert on the weapon itself, its power and its devastating potential. Data, Geordi, Will and Deanna were deployed via shuttle to Criala2; the nearest neighbouring planet in the solar system. Their detective work had led them to believe that the covert operatives were a group of Crialans who believed that Criala3 was best left a dead planet; its values and cultures out-dated next to those of 2 and 4.

It was thus three days since Picard had sat with Beverly and her two colleagues in Ten Forward. Seventy-two hours since he had made the first step to separate himself from his CMO. Again. They had met only briefly since then. Having sent Riker to Criala2 he had made himself the co-ordinator between the departments to ensure that the full report would be cohesive. Sighing as he re-read Riker's report from the day – that they thought they had finally circumvented the governing bodies of Criala2 to be able to get at the suspected culprits he decided that he was hungry. Three days eating alone was quite enough.

"Picard to Crusher?"

No reply. He checked the clock again. He knew well that Beverly among others of his senior staff were prone to keeping odd hours when unravelling a mystery such as this; but still, it seemed unusual that she would be asleep at this time.

"Computer, location of Dr. Crusher?"

"Dr. Crusher is in her quarters," it was a quiet, neutral response that sent chills down his spine though he didn't know why. She was probably asleep, he reasoned. At seven in the evening.

"Picard to Ogawa?"

"Ogawa here, yes captain?" the nurse of Asian heritage looked up from her terminal in the research lab, locking eyes with the dark gaze of Dr. Firda.

"What time did Dr. Crusher leave sickbay?"

"About three hours ago, sir. Is there a problem?" Beverly had left for a late lunch. Trying to keep the worry out of her voice, Alyssa quickly assumed a mental checklist of Beverly's movements and behaviours that day.

"Probably not, lieutenant, thank you," she could hear the growl of nerves beneath his words. Firda returned to her work.

"If there is a problem, he will call," she said. Alyssa smiled, despite the soft and rolling tones of Firda's accent it could sometimes sound as though her colleague was being unnecessarily harsh.

Picard toyed with the corner of his desk. Something was telling him the opposite of his attempted reassurance of Nurse Ogawa. In the back of his mind he turned her question over and over. _Is there a problem?_ It was probably reading too much into it that she would assume that Beverly's prolonged absence from her station was a command level concern. But not too much to consider that there actually might be a problem. Outside of her department, he knew that Beverly trusted him, Deanna and Will; within her department despite having faith in each and every one of her team and treating them with a patient, familiar and open respect, the fiercely private doctor would only confide in select few; Ogawa being one of them. Deciding to trust the instincts that had kept him in good stead these thirty years in space; he rose from his seat and allowed his feet to be lead to her door. Unable to rouse her with the chime, he used his command code to enter her quarters. The lights were on in the living quarters, which was strange he noted as she nearly always slept in darkness. He followed his feet to her bedroom where the door was ajar. She was curled up in the sheets, her face was a picture of anguish and she wasn't breathing.

"Beverly!" he hissed through his teeth rushing to her side pushing all emotion to one side as he had not the time to decipher the cryptic maelstrom that threatened to overcome him. He cupped her cooling cheek with one hand that was somehow steady amid the panic that had led him thus far; and shook her shoulder with the other. "Beverly!" he repeated urgently.

She came to with a start, taking a gulp of air as she registered where she was and the sight swimming before her eyes; what she was sure would be her last vista in this life as the blackness that had swallowed her a little over an hour ago, took over her senses again and she fainted.

Firda's black eyes betrayed no passion as she observed the tension in the captain's shoulders where he stood anxiously by the bedside. It was not a routine revival, though the procedures were similar the position held by their patient both in rank and esteem and her assumed next of kin, made the success of their efforts more vital. Alyssa was anxiously checking the readings from each of the monitors tracking their boss's condition; she cursed herself for not pulling Beverly up on her actions before when she had realised what her superior officer was doing. It had been respect and faith that had allowed her to relax over it; no more. She looked down at their patient briefly, a little colour was returning to her cheeks. Resuming her vigil over the facts and figures changing like a kaleidoscope before her, she noted that the details on the screens were becoming more comforting as Beverly opened her eyes.

She saw first the vibrant presence of her newest friend, lithe silver fingers tracking the display in front of her, bright red curls resting on her high cheek bones. Alyssa's attention was diverted between three screens at a rate of concern that Beverly had rarely seen even in the most desperate of cases. Beside her she sensed a force of fear and familiarity that could only be attributed to Jean-Luc. She strained to see his face, there were new lines that she hadn't seen before. Sighing sadly she knew that she was their cause.

"What happened?" her voice was tight as if it had been strangled in a storm.

"What always happens when someone takes their treatment into their own hands and forgets to take proper precautions," Alyssa scolded with a lump in her throat; saving Jean-Luc from the embarrassment at being lost for words in his anxiety. She was awake. She was still here.


	9. Chapter 9

hiya! ok, i'm going to apologise before this part happens... i'm sorry.

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>Finally satisfied with Beverly's condition now being stabilised, Dr. Firda excused herself to main sickbay where two shamefaced ensigns were being escorted by an extremely angry looking Lieutenant Worf. The Captain had slipped into Beverly's office to take a message from Admiral Tumal, requesting an update of their progress which Picard promised would be sent upon the return of Riker's team on Criala2. Comfortable in his first officer's ability, Picard was confident that almost everything on Criala3 would be wrapped up by lunchtime tomorrow and realising that there was no more official business that he was required to attend to that evening, returned to the private room where Beverly was. His heart rate had returned to normal, just. He was almost frightened to admit to himself how scared he had been when he had found her. The palpable relief when she had opened her eyes. He knew how he felt about her, he had known for a long time. Despite hoping that those feelings had gone away, he had instead acknowledged that they had merely changed. No longer did he feel a guilty lust and desire for his best friend's wife. Now it was a deep affection and love for the woman whose husband's death he still felt responsible for. He would never want to cause any damage to the friendship they shared; if only he could be sure how she felt about him; if only he could guarantee that taking that next step would only improve their relationship. But he knew he couldn't do either of these things. Fate governed no certainty. If anyone knew that, it was the captain of the Enterprise.<p>

Alyssa glanced at the captain standing in the doorway of the room, silently asking permission to enter. She remarked to herself the buried emotion in his gaze as he looked; she decided to give Beverly one last chance to do the right thing before she and Firda would have to take official action.

"You have to tell him."

"I know."

Beverly begged forgiveness in the meeting of her eyes with Alyssa's. The young nurse should have insisted on treating her. She and Firda ought to have witnessed and signed the coded notes that had been sent to Dr. Pulaski. Feeling enormously grateful to Alyssa for her silent support of Beverly's rule-bending, the older woman knew that giving her the chance to talk to the Captain now, meant that she was still in control. Though Alyssa was unlikely to let her continue her treatment covertly.

"Right," Alyssa continued firmly. "If you even think about leaving this room tonight, I'll have a force-field put in place. Please tell the captain that if he leaves, to tell Dr. Firda. She's in the research lab finishing the final reports for tomorrow," she silenced Beverly's question; leaving the slightly abashed doctor to feel even more in debt to her friends. "I shall be on shift at 07:00 hours at which time, if Dr. Firda agrees, you may be discharged. Is that understood?"

Beverly suppressed a grin, "Yes, sir."

"Right, then I'm going to go meet Andrew. He's taking me to the arboretum," Alyssa winked and left the room.

Her place was taken by Jean-Luc, smiling as he returned. "That sounded decisive," he observed neutrally.

Beverly tried to scowl good-naturedly and pushed herself to sit up. He reached to adjust the pillows. "Don't," she whispered, losing the fight to maintain the façade. "Please, don't. I can manage myself."

She refused to meet his eye, respecting her request, he moved instead to the replicator. "Would you like some supper?" he asked, keeping every trace of anxiety out of his tones was taking an awful lot of concentration. Even through the tempest of tortured emotions that she was pushing away, Beverly could hear it still. He turned to look as she gave no verbal answer and she nodded. He knew that she was holding back tears, wished that she wouldn't; realised that he would not know what to do if she could not.

They sat in companionable silence enjoying the simple supper that he had ordered: toast and marmalade accompanied by Deanna's favourite hot chocolate recipe. He tidied their things away before settling to attempt to peel away some of the layers of secrecy that Beverly had cocooned herself in.

"So, what happened?" he asked in such a gentle manner that it did not seem abrasive or direct although it was still a sharp enough question that it threatened the emotion and embarrassment to spill out of her in salty-tear form. "Nurse Ogawa said something about self-medicating?"

She took a deep breath to steel herself to get through the conversation. "I forgot, this morning."

Jean-Luc sighed. At times, his friend could be frustratingly obtuse in maintaining her privacy. Allowing a minute to pass, during which she offered no further explanation; he ran through in his mind everything that had been in the reports about the virus that had attacked her, Lynch and Hawk. He could find no useful information. He decided to be blunt.

"Beverly, what is going on?"

She knew that she couldn't lie this time. She couldn't evade the truth anymore. Not with him. She didn't want to. She needed him to know. She needed him.

"The virus from the plant attacks immune systems. It breaks down established defences to diseases. We have repaired the damage to immune systems and prevented the virus from enacting dormant genetic predispositions to diseases. In the cases of Lieutenant Hawk and Ensign Lynch this appears to have been sufficient."

"But in your case?" he probed gently, fearing the answer.

"The virus was designed to attack Crialian physiology," she kept her eyes firmly on her fingers lying passively upon the blanket. "While it affects the immune system of all humanoids, this is only a front for what the virus is really up to. Crialian physiognomy is very similar to Earth-females, which is how we've found this out," she smiled humourlessly. Submitting herself as a guinea-pig for biological warfare had never been one of her ambitions. "While the patient is being treated for the obvious ailments that they suffer after contact with the virus; it takes up occupation of the brain, interfering with the regulation of the body's organs. We've been controlling its progress with medication. Medication that this morning I forgot to take, allowing the virus to mess with the respiratory system, which is why when you found me I wasn't breathing," she managed to look at him, he wasn't returning her gaze. "At the moment, we're slowing the rate of development. But we haven't stopped it. Yet."

"But you will," he encouraged, dragging his eyes away from her hands so composed on the cover.

"Not much has ever beaten us on the Enterprise," she smiled vainly around the conference table the next morning, giving the same report that she had to the captain in private last night to the rest of the senior staff aboard the ship. The meeting room that afternoon following the away team's successful return from Criala2 had been fuller earlier as the heads of other research departments had been called to submit their reports and to be debriefed. Picard had requested that Worf, Geordi, Deanna, Will and Data remain behind for Beverly to explain why _"Although to Earth-Humans the virus is dangerous, to Crialians it would be fatal."_

"You mean…?" Deanna failed to complete her sentence and looking to Will for support.

"That's bad news, Beverly. But you're right," Will said softly, returning Deanna's anxious glance and offering her silent comfort. "And if there's anything any of us can do, I'm sure you only have to ask," he finished, offering what he hoped was both a supportive and optimistic expression; reflecting his comprehension and shock at the situation as well as his unyielding confidence in her ability to beat down anything that faced her with the passion and strength of an ancient Amazon.

"Thank you, Will," Beverly swallowed and smiled genuinely. After Alyssa and Firda had granted permission for her to be discharged that morning, as Jean-Luc had bid adieu having slept in the chair at her bedside, the three of them had poured over the plans for a treatment that Firda had worked on after finalising their official reports. It had a good chance of ridding her system of the virus. Infantile as she knew it was to pin her hopes on such a long shot, she had been willing to believe that they might have the answer. If nothing else, it would have made for a much happier meeting.

"I will submit our full report to Admiral Tumal," Jean-Luc wrapped up the meeting. "And I expect him to grant to Commander Frial permission to go ahead with the plans for the traditional 'flower gala' celebrations in two days time. We are all invited to this event and I have asked Commander Frial and Doctor Firda to work with Data and Geordie to compile an appropriate guide to the events for everyone to access. Thank you."

"Beverly," he stopped her leaving after the meeting. He had not failed to notice that she had struggled to bring together the right words to tell the small group, which after seven years made up the main family unit on the Enterprise. Although not a man for familiarities and a seasoned enough officer to recognise that no certainties existed in the universe, he knew that this life created groups of people that became a family. And probably a closer family than many, he mused to himself as they filed out.

She waited until they were alone before slowly turning around to face him. She looked as pale as he had ever seen her, her hair hung lifelessly either side of her face and her normally sparkling eyes held none of the mischief that normally resided there. She was obedient as a small child, looking to him for an explanation for her detainment.

"You still don't look well," he began gently not wanting to provoke her but needing to show her that she didn't need to hide anything from him. If she had cried last night, he would have comforted her, held her, like he had the night when he went to her quarters.

Her reaction shocked him more than he could have anticipated. He was expecting a sharp remark, a flash of temper. Instead she remained exactly where she stood and turned her eyes to the floor. She didn't answer him and seemed to be struggling to maintain her composure. He crossed the floor to stand in front of her and gently lifted placed a hand under her chin to encourage her to meet his eyes.

"What is it?" he fought to keep his fear out of his voice.

"I…" she shook her head gently, pushing his touch away.

"Hey," he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. "We're friends. Remember?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, bowing her head again. He hadn't known about the treatment. He didn't know that it hadn't worked. She couldn't…

"Why? Beverly, what is it?" her remittance scared him.

She sighed. She couldn't.

"Look, come to my quarters tonight. I'll cook for you. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't…" her behaviour chilled his blood, something was still wrong. She was still keeping something from him.

"I will tell you," she insisted suddenly. "I want to tell you Jean-Luc. I just…can't find the words right now."

"Then take the afternoon, find them. I'll see you at seven."

She nodded and slipped away from his grasp leaving him alone in the observation lounge staring at the empty room.

* * *

><p>"Beverly…" he muttered as he looked at the clock. "Where are you?"<p>

He put the finishing touches to the table and asked the computer what was becoming a frequent question from him, "Computer, location of Dr. Crusher?"

"Dr. Crusher is in her office."

"Thank you," he replied in a cursory fashion wondering if the records of internal ship communication were ever analysed by Starfleet before leaving his quarters and heading straight there.

"Good evening, Captain," Nurse Ogawa greeted him with a subdued surprise. At least, she thought, at least she had told him.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," he moved past her without really seeing her to Beverly's office. Her back was to him as she studied a PADD and imputed data into the wall console.

"Good evening, doctor," he began neutrally.

She started and refused to turn around. "Jean-Luc…"

"You haven't forgotten about dinner have you?" he walked up to her.

"No, no of course I hadn't. I just, lost track of time."

"Beverly, I know I said…"

"Sit down," she said suddenly, moving away from him.

"Beverly…"

"Please," she looked at him, her face ashen, eyes ringed with red. "Sit down."

In shocked silence he took the chair opposite her as she sat down behind her desk.

"Don't interrupt," she said unnecessarily as her appearance had shook him to the point of not being able to formulate speech. "I need to tell you this and it will only be harder if you interrupt."

Satisfied that he wasn't going to cut in she took a deep breath. "The treatment isn't working. This, whatever it is, is still in my system. It's slowly killing my brain activity and control. I can't do anything about it."

Her frustration was written all over her face.

"There must be…"

"There isn't," she replied flatly. "Slowing down the effects is all we can do."

For the second time in as many minutes, Jean-Luc Picard was left without words.

Taking enough strength from his silence to admit defeat in steady voice she kept her eyes fixed on his and said the only thing she could to be sure that they both understood the situation. "Jean-Luc, I'm dying."


	10. Chapter 10

Hi, thanks for the lovely reviews! And thank you to everyone for reading!

Once again, sorry about the last part… I hope this one is at least *slightly* more enjoyable!

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>"I'm dying."<p>

The words he could never have anticipated hearing. The words he would never have wanted to hear fall from her lips. The words that stunned him into a victim of Medusa as he stared at her, absorbing the sight that he had come to rely on as a constant in his life until she turned away from him and resumed her stance at the wall console, her back to him. He realised that she wasn't tapping on the console. He stood up. He walked over to her. He took her hand.

"Dying?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I was going to make myself more presentable and tell you over dinner but, I lost track of time. I'm sorry Jean-Luc," her failed attempt at humour failed as she found herself wishing that he wasn't standing behind her. Wishing that he wasn't in her office. Wishing that she had never met him again. He could have remained a slightly angry memory. He might have stayed in the corner of her past as a guilty lustful desire. This could have been easier. But she was grown up enough now to know that Fate would never be responsible for dealing an easy hand.

"Sorry? This is my fault," he spoke sombrely, seriously, believing his own assumption; racked with an over-awing responsibility and debt to the woman standing with her back to him. Her fingers tentatively closing over his palm.

"What? No it isn't," she swung round to face him. He would not take the rap for this. He would not wrongfully shoulder the burden. She wouldn't let him. His hand fell away. Now it was his turn to be unwilling to look upon her. He walked away, stood at her desk, staring at the padd's strewn across it with the vacancy of a Borg drone that has been separated from the Collective; unable to face the uncertainty that her presence now carried.

"I made you go on that mission, to that planet, I made you," the low growl of his garrotted certainty an empty echo in the otherwise silent room.

His words sent a chill of ice over her heart; not knowing what else to do, she quickly covered the distance between them and covered his lips with hers. It was soft, gentle and unassuming. It felt right, yet the poignancy of the contact was almost too much for either of them to bear.

Drawing back and rested her hands on his shoulders, she stared deeply into his eyes, willing him to believe what she was about to say; "You didn't make me ill. This isn't your fault and," she covered his lips with her finger as he opened them to protest. "I don't want you to think that way for one second."

Gently he took hold of her hand and drew it away from his lips. The strength that she was still showing now, in the jaws of defeat, brought to mind the lyrics from an old rock and roll ballad from Earth. He couldn't help it. He had fallen. Fate had blessed him with knowing her and had given him this chance to support her. She needed him now. He knew his duty. That was all it was, all that was left to him. His duty to her. "So, what do we do?"

"Nothing," she sighed, not wanting to crush his optimistic question but needing him to focus on the reality of the situation. "I've been looking at it for hours, there's nothing I or any of us can think of; we've tried sending out for more information from every quadrant we can reach. No-one has any ideas yet that we haven't already tried."

"Do your …"

"Firda and Alyssa know. The others suspect. I've called a meeting this evening. I'm sorry," she suddenly said. "I completely… I need to tell them, Jean-Luc. Can dinner…?"

"Dinner can wait," he assured her. She was still standing incredibly close to him. He remembered the touch of her lips on his and wished more than anything that this was the time to repay that favour. He pulled her to him instead and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Hey," she whispered. "I'm not gone yet."

He stood quietly in the background as the medical staff gathered in sickbay. Her words were softly spoken with the gravity of them clear. It was the toughest meeting he had ever attended; tenser than the court martial he had faced over the Stargazer; more emotive than Data's trial against Maddox; quieter than a funeral. Her audience were receptive, attentive and understanding. No meaning was lost in the succinct speech she gave them; no details exempt through mis-trust. As he glanced over the assembly he realised that she was respected by all of them. And she respected them. If she had taken command rather then medicine, she would have been one of the best captains in Starfleet. But he knew that to her medicine was a vocation, not a job. It was just one of the reasons he loved her. Dismissing her staff with a reassuring smile, she spoke a few words with Dr. Hill who would be shadowing her senior duties with a view to … he didn't like to think about it.

"Are you ok, Captain?"

He jumped slightly as he registered that Alyssa Ogawa was addressing him. She and Firda had remained behind also and had sidled over to him while he was watching Beverly.

"Er… yes, thank you, Lieutenant," he replied with startled politeness. Alyssa's face was of studied composure, while Firda's as usual gave nothing away. He found himself short of conversation for the two young women and was grateful when Beverly came over and spoke quietly to them for a moment before they left for the night. Suddenly he realised that Alyssa's question had been both for his benefit and theirs. They wanted a reassurance that he was prepared for what Beverly faced; assurance that she would not be alone. With this thought he brought his eyes to the object of his thoughts. She was standing awkwardly in front of him.

"Well, that wasn't too bad," she said nervously.

"You did wonderfully," he assured her. He reached out and touched her forearm. As she looked at him, he saw depths in her eyes that he had never allowed himself to notice before.

"Thank you," her voice was still low, almost apologetic. "Can we get out of here now?"

He smiled and raised his eyebrows, "And an hour ago I was wondering if I could ever tear you away from your sickbay."

She managed to return some of his levity then drifted away from his touch to make sure that everything was tidy in her office before he escorted her to his quarters where the table was laid and the dinner was quickly prepared.

* * *

><p>"Genesis," she murmured.<p>

"I beg your pardon?" he politely enquired, aware that his dinner companion had just voiced the beginnings of a conclusion to what had been distracting her thoughts during the first and second courses.

"The Genesis project," she repeated with more conviction.

"The planet that was created from a dead moon," he confirmed. "The technology was found to be …"

"Dangerous? Innovative? Flawed?" she questioned mildly. "The Klingons believed it could be used as a weapon. Ambassador Spock, or captain as he was, was regenerated by the effects."

"You remember our experiences with rejuvenative technological cures?" he couldn't help but scowl slightly.

"Captain…" she mused. "Yes. You didn't trust my instincts."

"To begin with," he argued in response to her good-natured attack.

The wry smile fell from her lips as she returned to her contemplation of the peculiar virus that had been planted within the vegetation on the planet below them. The peculiar virus that was attacking the woman he loved.

The cutlery in her hands was dropped angrily on her plate where dessert sat taunting but not appealing to her appetite. "All the diseases, viruses, illnesses I have treated, researched, and," she tried and failed to make a cohesive sentence from her thoughts. The exasperation in her tone was evident; he listened longingly, not knowing how to interrupt. She was the best doctor he knew. Looking at her was painful. There was something inside her, something hurting her. Something that she had picked up from that damned planet that he had sent her to. She caught his eye, her own cloaked in sadness and whispered calmly. "I can't save myself."

* * *

><p>He walked her back to her quarters. She had merely nodded when he had risen and offered his hand, quietly asking if she would like to go back to her own rooms. The silence was not oppressive though it was laden with the realisations of the day.<p>

"I'm not getting rid of you tonight, am I?" Beverly asked rhetorically as they reached the door. Somehow, she knew that he wouldn't be leaving her on her own. She wanted to be alone, to cry into the darkness until exhaustion swallowed her whole. She wanted him to stay, so that the sadness wouldn't take her.

"I don't want you sleeping alone," Jean-Luc replied calmly enough, trying to make his meaning clear that after last night he wouldn't be comfortable with her solitude lest something should happen and that he didn't want her to be lonely. Then he realised what he had said. "I mean… er…"

"Relax," she bit her lip trying not to laugh, though her eyes twinkled with relief that gave it away. "I know what you meant. And thank you."

Clearing his throat gruffly he followed her into her quarters.

While she got ready for bed, he turned over the day's events in his mind. The usual satisfaction of completing a mission; the pleasurable idea of his crew indulging in the cultural festival in two days time; the regular excitement at what their next mission might be mingled with the itching to be racing past the stars at warp speed again; all of these connotative responses to the checklist that he ran of the moments in his day that had led to now were shadowed over and insignificant to the palpable pain that he endured whenever Beverly was now near him. Replying to her reappearance in the bedroom doorway, he requested the lights in the living room to switch off and took position in the chair in the corner of the room, lifting the blanket that was there and putting it to one side for now. She called for the lights to dim and climbed into bed. After a moment, she looked at him.

"Jean, you can't sleep in the chair. Come here," there was no lustful intent in her words.

Slowly he took off his shoes and uniform top. He shyly joined her in the bed, bringing the blanket with him as she wrapped her own cover around her more. He was tense beside her. They lay beside each other, both on their backs staring at the ceiling.

"Twenty years of friendship, and you're still frightened to be this close to me?"

He turned his head, "Beverly…" he had no idea what to say, a situation that he noted with some ire was becoming a common occurrence.

She hesitated a moment then reached out a hand, gingerly placing it on his arm. She rolled onto her side and they mutually, silently agreed on the reasons why they were there. He lifted his arm and nodded gently. Tenderly, she nestled her head against his chest, resting one hand on his ribs feeling the rise and fall of his steady breaths. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered as he lowered his arm, covering her shoulders and pulling her into a tentative embrace.


	11. Chapter 11

hiya! thank you to everyone for reading this piece :) on the home stretch now, as this is the penultimate part.

So, special thanks to everyone for putting this on alert/reviewing/messaging and reading :)

Hope you enjoy

Jessie xx

* * *

><p>The usual dread of social functions was absent. The customary pleasant anticipation of indulgence in cultural occasions was also noted by its non-presence. In their places were a feeling of involvement and responsibility to the festival at which they were to be guests; and a precarious joy of being able to attend it with Beverly. The last two days had passed in relative peace; the Enterprise crew had been granted shore leave on the promise that they were to help the Crialians to recreate the Gala's of the past. Galas that if he was honest he had heard quite enough about from the exceptionally grateful yet talkative Commander Frial. It was a black tie affair, he had been instructed, unfortunately. Deciding that as she would probably re-tie it for him anyway, he left the ridiculous silk bow loose under his collar as he made his way to Beverly's quarters. He had spent every night there since she had told him, wanting, needing to be with her. The awkwardness was beginning to lessen; he was more open to her tactility, she was more comfortable accepting his presence. At least that's how it seemed.<p>

There was never a question that they would be going to the Gala together. There was rarely a question if he needed to be accompanied that anyone else would step into the breach. Soberly he realised that their relationship was shockingly per functionary. Her place by his side ought to be less a duty performed by a friend but a … they should go together because they wanted to. They did want to. He always wanted to go with her. It was good that he didn't have to ask. He should probably ask.

Her hand was not quite steady as she replaced her hairbrush in its customary place on her dressing table. The evening had loomed with a shadowing brow over the last two days. Dr. Firda had handing her resignation shortly after its announcement as the Gala was to mark the beginning of a new colony on Criala3; a colony that would require a physician. Also, Beverly had read all of the literature that Firda along with Data and Geordi had put on the computer regarding the tradition. The thought of attending a festival of life when her own hung on the tentative research that she was trekking through, was not so appealing to her. She had contacted Wesley that evening and his words rang through her mind as she waited for Jean-Luc to return to her quarters. _It's ok, Mom. You can beat anything. But… _and here his voice had faltered _…keep me informed, don't hide. I know you. And if you can't tell me how it goes, don't just forward a message._ She knew exactly what he meant. Asking Jean-Luc to be the one to inform her son that he had lost both his parents was going to be hard. She was always glad to be the one to take his arm at official occasions. She always knew that it was her duty, that he wouldn't ask anyone else.

The chime at her door signalled his arrival. She looked at her reflection. A tired, pale image of herself returned her gaze with dull eyes. She closed them. _It's ok, Mom._ The chime repeated itself. "Come in," she mustered.

The lights were low as he entered her quarters. It always amazed him that the scent of a person could somehow be absorbed into the rooms that they inhabited. Her quarters retained the standard aroma of the ship whilst blending with her own combination of perfumes and soaps. Having spent an uncommon amount of time in her personal space, he found with some surprise that he enjoyed returning to the smell after time on the bridge or in his own rooms. It was like being surrounded by her essence, as if she was a blanket wrapped lightly around him, protecting him. He smoothed down his jacket as he detected movement in the next room. He looked out of the window, their orbit was coinciding with the colony area that they were visiting. The swirling gold and pink atmosphere of the planet masked the surface from view. Of all the planets that he had visited, all the worlds he had seen; Criala3 was without doubt one of the most uniquely colourful. Which was definitely in contrast to the black and white dress code causing him to wear the dratted coat and tails that Beverly had just noticed. At least, he hoped that was why she was giggling. He turned away from the window, "Don't you know it's cruel to laugh at a man in coat-tails, madam?"

"Sorry," she mumbled, stifling the end of her mirth. She looked him up and down. "Come here," she motioned to his bow tie. "As much as I love the casual look on you, I think the captain of the flagship is supposed to be correctly attired. At least at the start of the night."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled in response to her attentions. The teasing gleam in her words could not mask the tiredness he heard in her voice though. Her hands, once finished with his appearance, rested on his chest for the briefest of moments before falling to her sides. She made to turn away, he caught her wrist lightly. "Beverly?"

"I, er, just spoke to Wesley," the quietness that was common to her tones of late was no less shocking to him despite its now frequent occurrence.

"You told him?" he asked unnecessarily, earning him a scathing return that was reminiscent of the Beverly that he knew.

"Yes. I told him," she bit. Too harsh, she knew it was too harsh.

"Hey," he tugged gently at her wrist, pulling her closer to him.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she murmured.

"You know what?" he began rhetorically. "I think we should stop apologising to each other."

She looked up. He was right. They should stop apologising for situations that weren't their fault.

"How did he seem?" he cringed at his awkward question.

"He took it ok," she politely ignored his insensitive question. "Considering."

"He's a fine young man," Picard said softly.

She smiled in thanks and moved away again to pick up her communicator from the table. She slipped it under the fold of the sash around her waist before straightening up and addressing her partner for the evening.

"You look fantastic," she said sincerely. His dress emanated grace and sophistication, tailed coat, waistcoat, bow-tie, trousers and shoes all black against the crisp whiteness of his shirt.

"Thank-you," he adjusted his jacket for the hundredth time since he had donned it, feeling slightly less uncomfortable after her approval. "You also, look amazing, Beverly."

Her dress was coal-black; full length and flowing, tucked at the waist with a pure white sash. One pale shoulder was bare while the other was covered in a long sleeve that ran fluted to her fingertips. The sides of her auburn hair were clipped at the base of her neck, while the rest was arranged to hang loosely over her shoulders and down her back. Forcing his focus away from her body he offered his elbow and cleared his throat.

"Come to the party?" he asked shyly.

"Try and stop me," she whispered.

* * *

><p>They met with the senior staff in the assigned transporter room. Dr. Firda was also invited to beam down with the party as ambassador for the Enterprise crew. She wore a snow-white dress, it had a folding neckline and sleeves that covered her shoulders whilst leaving her arms bare, exposing the silver skin of her species. Her bright red hair was topped with a thin band of black flowers and bobbed in tight curls to the top of her shoulders. A thick black sash pulled the waistline in and Deanna poked Will in the ribs as he stared at the slight figure of the doctor.<p>

"Beverly, Captain," Deanna addressed them, as much to greet them as to further distract Will from Firda's hips. She herself had opted for a black dress that her mother had sent as a present some years ago; it was surprisingly tasteful for her mother's usual taste and was laced with a thin white vine. Will, along with Data, as the second and third in command of the ship, were wearing traditional dress like the captain; though Beverly noted that none of them pulled it off quite as well as Jean-Luc. Will looked decidedly uncomfortable in his bow-tie and kept running his hand over it, until Deanna slapped him sharply enough that he stopped. Data opened his mouth to comment upon the counsellor's behaviour but stopped himself catching a glance and subtle negative signal from Geordie. He and Worf were the only two without 'dates' as Data had been coerced into taking the first dance with Dr. Firda after minimal negotiations from her.

"Are we all ready?" the captain addressed his company.

"I believe so, sir," Firda took the initiative.

"Come along then," Will took his place on the transporter pad. "Let's get this party started!"

Geordie and Worf rolled their eyes and waited for the other five to take their places before authorising the transport sequence. They would be remaining aboard to co-ordinate the first groups of guests before beaming down themselves.

* * *

><p>Commander Frial greeted the party upon their arrival on the planet surface. The navy-blue sky was clear and glittered with the stars which they normally spent their time amongst. They had beamed into a clearing just outside of the gardens. A long passage roofed by long stretching branches of trees on either side led the way to the main arena that had been prepared for the gala. It was in the centre of the South Gardens, to get there they passed the boundaries of the North, West and East areas, all now familiar to the ships personnel. The seating was arranged in a hap-hazardous compilation of benches and bales of grey hay, it did not conform to any official arrangement that the crew of the Enterprise had ever seen but offered a casual attitude to the gathering. There was a stage framed by arches covered in freshly picked flowers and along one edge of the area were tables laden with Crialian dishes. The evening was opened with a performance by the children of the new colony before official speeches thanking the Federation and the people of the Crialian development. There followed invitation to enjoy the buffet selection while further musical and dramatic events took place on the stage. The final organised performance was the children again before the adults were invited to make the night their own. Will joined the band as they struck up, leaving Deanna to take the first dance with a reluctant Worf. Jean-Luc masked his own discomfort better than his Chief of Security to all but his Chief Medical Officer who gently squeezed his hand as Commander Frial invited them to the floor.<p>

Despite being a passable dancer, he never felt comfortable on a dance floor. Watching dances, fine. Being watched, not fine. His grateful grasp of Beverly's fingers told her that his feelings had still not changed on the matter. Smiling and shaking her head she waited until the dance was underway before leaning toward his ear and whispering, "And I thought that the only thing that scared the captain of the Enterprise was his counsellor's mother!"

"Glad to see I can still confound your expectations of me," he murmured back, flashing a smile at Deanna as she twirled past them in Worf's disgruntled hold. "As Mr. Worf constantly does to mine of him…"

"Deanna's been coaching him," Beverly replied quietly.

Two dances later, she acquiesced to the begging in his eyes and they left the floor.

"Doctor," Data's voice carried to her. She turned. "I wondered if I could ask for your company in the waltz later?"

"Of course, Data," she replied sweetly. The android, satisfied with this promise, returned to the dance floor to take a turn with a young female ensign from engineering.

"He has taken your tuition well," Jean-Luc observed. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she lied. "Just a little tired."

He frowned; her admittance belied a polite brushing over of how tired she actually was. He led her to a secluded seat. He lifted his arm to invite her closer, recognising that he hadn't first checked to see if anyone was watching them was a secondary thought to her realisation that he was really there and that it wasn't a dream like she had decided the first night of his attentions. Neither of these cognitions lasted longer than it took her to lean against him thankfully. After a few minutes she came to another conclusion, it had to end.

Just as he hadn't known what led him to her quarters the night she needed him, he knew that the same force was telling him that he wasn't going to like what she was steeling herself to say as she drew away. Surely though, it didn't have to end.

"Jean-Luc, I want to thank you," there it was. The opening words to ruin everything. "These last few weeks, you have been wonderful," she counted the syllables as she spoke, trying not to prolong the pain any longer than she had to.

"Beverly, don't…" a feeble plea. She was pushing him away. He should be angry, but he had foreseen this inevitability.

"But, I shouldn't have…I never asked…" she couldn't find the right words as she saw through his brave façade, a façade that had returned. A familiar face that distanced him from her. She turned her eyes away from him.

"You never had to," he tried to catch her eye as her head bowed. He saw it. "You make it sound like it has to end."

Trying to convince her, he placed his hands firmly over hers and refused to let them leave his lap. She couldn't, not this time. They knew the dangers of space travel. They knew that they had hit possibly one too many this time, that this time, they had no choice but to face the end that had been chosen for them. But they didn't have to do it alone.

"It does have to end," she spoke softly, kindly; but he heard every word as if they were the only two people on a remote star where the threat of supernova washed over them with every heartbeat, but as long as those hearts kept beating…then all the ellipses, all the things not said, wouldn't matter. She looked into his heart and turned back, determined to close the door as firmly and certainly as possible. "If we carry on like this, one day you are going to wake up and find me dead beside you…and I can't ask you …"

Not knowing what else to do, he leant towards her and kissed her firmly on the lips with all the certainty of what he felt; then in the desert of lost words and feelings he found the only things he could voice. "Then don't. Don't ask. Let me care for you Beverly. It doesn't have to end."


	12. Chapter 12

The Enterprise was warping through space on the way to its next mission. It happened, every so often, but Jean-Luc Picard was uninterested in where they were going. He sat in his seat on the bridge wondering if he could just give Riker the authority to deal with whatever it was. His mind frequently returned him to the moment the previous evening when he had returned Beverly's kiss. It meant he was there, it meant he cared; it meant he felt the same way.

Beverly watched Dr. Hill walk out of her office with his third irrelevant question of the hour. Sure, she could trust him to run her sickbay. She glanced at her console again, it still showed no response. Nothing new was calling for her attention. There was no distraction past the restructuring of her staff. They would be taking on a new doctor to replace Firda. In fact they were taking on so many new staff at the next rotation that she had spent the morning reviewing service records with Dr. Hill. Her thoughts recurrently turned to the brief kiss of the previous night. It meant he was there, it meant that he cared; it meant that he felt the same way. She was grateful when Alyssa walked into her office with a cup of coffee.

The young nurse placed the cup in front of her superior and took the seat opposite with her own. Beverly raised her eyebrows. "What?" she asked blandly.

"Have you heard back yet?" Alyssa returned simply.

"No," Beverly checked her console again. "Starting to think I'm not going to."

"You will," Alyssa said assuredly. "You will."

The two women drank their coffee in silence. Checking over reports and service records, answering Dr. Hill's random questions about staff rotas. Keeping a continuous eye on the monitor on Beverly's desk.

* * *

><p>Jean-Luc made his way to sickbay that evening feeling strangely apprehensive. Beverly hadn't explained at lunch why he had to go and he was fairly sure it wasn't time for his physical yet.<p>

She was waiting in a small private room, setting up a few pieces of equipment on the trolley by the biobed. He entered, noting that Alyssa Ogawa was drifting around the main sickbay doing her usual work with one eye constantly flickering toward the doorway.

"Good evening," he announced his arrival.

"Hi," she sounded rushed.

"Beverly?"

"We have an idea," she spoke quickly, finishing her preparation of the trolley and the room as she explained. "It's a virus that works on hormonal signals and neurotransmitter activity; so flooding my system with inhibiters and counter-active hormones should confuse it into remittance while a degenerative agent destroys its molecular cohesion. Like a restart, de-fragmentation of a hard-drive."

"Okay," he said slowly, unprepared for the launch that she had taken into the reason why they were there.

"I've been sending a copy of all of our research to Dr. Pulaski," she fixed him with a peculiar look. She knew how much he respected Katherine as a physician and researcher; she needed him to realise that she knew. "Remember I mentioned the genesis project? Well, after the virus has been eliminated, we rejuvenate the brain's functions: jump-start them to where they were before."

"This sounds all rather far-fetched," he said carefully. He couldn't raise their hopes. He couldn't point out the insane danger that she proposed.

"Katherine agrees it's our best shot," Beverly needed him to trust her now. She couldn't tell him that it was their best chance because that sounded like their last chance.

"Okay," he sounded worried, but he had learned to trust Katherine Pulaski. The straight-talking doctor had proved herself to him over her tour of duty on the Enterprise. He needed to believe now that Beverly had exhausted every avenue. He knew that the proud red-head didn't ask for help. Suddenly the seriousness of the situation was even more real than it had been before. Best shot meant best chance. "Why am I here?"

"I need you to be here," she said cryptically with the subtle tones of a newly budding flower, shyly peeking its petals into the sunlight for the first time.

"Why?"

"Because, Jean-Luc, as much as I don't know what this thing is, I also don't know if what I'm about to use will eradicate it or accelerate it," she sat on the biobed, like any other patient waiting to be seen.

"You mean, you could die?" he asked, comprehending the enormity of trust that was being placed in the trail of the antidote and seeing not any other patient waiting for a diagnosis or treatment, but the woman he adored sitting waiting for his comprehension and acceptance.

"Exactly," she took up a padd and began to work on something on the screen.

"So what do you need me to do? How will I know when to intervene?" his brain raced through scenarios and actions faster than any speed he had ever travelled through space.

"Jean-Luc," she said sadly. "If this doesn't work, there won't be anything you can do. Except to report that the attempt was unsuccessful. I need you to be here," she hesitated slightly as if doubting her words. "I need you to be here purely selfishly, because I don't really fancy dying alone."

His voice caught in his throat as she calmly turned away and finished her notes leaving him in a state of disequilibrium that he didn't know how to dispel.

"Why not one of…" he didn't want to watch her die. But despite where his sentence began to lead, he didn't want her to die alone, he could never want that.

"One of the other doctors?" she asked, pausing in her typing to smile wryly and guess at his unfinished question. "I think it's come up before, I'm not a great patient. If you don't want to stay, you don't have to. It was unfair of me to ask."

"I want to stay," he said immediately. Her exit opportunity couldn't fool him, it wasn't an unfair question. He was her best friend and she his. The statement did not take away from the promise they had sealed with his kiss at the gala. He would be with her, however fair fate decided to be. He explained himself as best he could. "But I want this to work."

"I can't promise you that. But I want it too."

The earnest urgency in her voice compelled him to her side, he took hold of the hand that held the stylus and stilled it. She continued to stare at the screen before blinking and sighing. Eventually she met his eye, shocked to see the glaze that resided there.

"Hey," she choked, covering his hand with hers. "It will be ok."

He nodded. "Talk me through it."

It was the inevitable precipice that neither wanted to reach. If it worked; the closeness that they had created would end. If it didn't work; it would end anyway.

They sat silently beside each other on the bed. Waiting for the courage to come, to lead them to a place where they might not return.

"Beverly…" she had broken the silence with a sniff.

"I guess I never thought about dying before," she explained. She was ashamed that emotion had intervened at the last moment. "I never thought about how it would feel. I mean, obviously in this job, the aspects of it have crossed my mind. I've watched other people die. Strangers, friends… I've seen the effects on their families and friends. When Wes was younger, I used to think about what would happen to him. He would have to go to Nana's. She'd have to bring up another child without their parents. When we came here, on the Enterprise, I thought maybe he could stay here, make a life for himself. When you allowed him to stay without me that year, I was grateful. He had a home if I had to go. Now, he's a grown man with his own life." He would hurt, but he would be ok. _It's ok, Mom_. "He will be ok."

All he had to do was listen. He couldn't take the time to acknowledge that she was justifying the risk she was taking; not taking this chance would only mean it would be longer and harder. He mustn't hear the voice in his head analysing the situation as it might Lear's last speech. He simply had to listen, to cherish every rise and fall in her voice as if it was the most precious china in his Mama's cabinet.

"I've got no-one to leave behind now. No one that needs my care. I've had a wonderful son, a great career and a great life. I was lucky enough to feel all the love that anyone can hope for. I had Jack, if only for a short time, I felt the love of a husband and felt part of something greater than myself. If I die now, at least I know that I did a lot of things, had a lot of things that some people just don't get the chance to know. I guess I'm saying that I'm ready."

Choked, he nodded as she picked the spray up from the stand and brought it to her arm, she curled her legs up beside her; she was ready. Her eyes met his and in that brief moment communicated to him something that he could not place, but it brought him a strange comfort. She released the spray and the cocktail of drugs and radiation flew into her body. She gasped. One sharp intake of breath.

Her eyes closed and she fell against him. Her body shuddered and stopped. She lay heavy in his arms.

* * *

><p>"At least you won't have to watch over me tonight," she teased as they reached her quarters.<p>

"You gave us quite a fright," he had only just recovered, sure that she had left him in that moment, that he would never see her eyes again.

She hesitated. "Come in anyway?"

There was a want in her tone, an invitation that their relationship did not have to end with him taking care of her just when she was ill. Perhaps a message that she needed him more of the time. He faltered. Unsure whether he could accept that invitation, read that message, answer the want that echoed in him as strongly as a Klingon's honour guided him. He swallowed and nodded.

She danced into her quarters and left him in the living area while she changed.

Her voice called to him from the bedroom, "Ready, Jean-Luc?"

"Are you?"

He thought the sound was his thoughts.

"Are you ready, Jean-Luc?"

He knew that intonation, that taunt, that …

"Q," he exhaled.

"Well done, mon capitaine, I was beginning to think I had lost you entirely in this fantasy," Q appeared nonchalantly on the sofa beside him.

"Where am I? Where's Beverly?" Q's appearance constantly filled him with exasperation but this time capped them all, he was infuriated with the omnipotent being's presence.

"Right where you left you. And her. In sickbay, wondering if the untested and frankly dangerous concoction she is about to inject into her system will save her."

"Why this then?" he couldn't even qualify his anger, he was that mad at Q's calm countenance.

"I don't know. I like you Jean-Luc. I wanted to give you a chance to, I don't know, explore that side of you that you keep so hidden. That side that is so intriguing in humans. Some let it show so much, you keep such a sordid affair with your emotions. It makes you quite enviable I understand, but so ugly too."

"So you give me time. In a fantasy. You said fantasy, does that mean that she will die?" he understood his rage now. If Q was simply showing him the alternative of an inescapable conclusion, an alternative that would never happen… he wondered how hard it would be to kill an immortal being.

"I don't know, Jean-Luc. Neither do either of you. The question is, are you ready?"

"Ready," Picard repeated softly, hearing Q's question as if for the first time. "Am I ready? To watch her die. To let her die. You ask me if I am ready to see her die. Why?"

"My dear captain, I simply ask the question."

"Am I ready to let her die without telling her. Can I let her die without telling her that she still has someone who cares for her, who loves her. I can't tell her that. She was so content." Q offered no further guidance, Jean-Luc allowed his thoughts to wander; to enter the truth that he had been holding back from himself and from her. "But am I ready to live without her, knowing that I never told her?" It would be honouring Jack's memory, which he had always aimed to do. He had never let his own heart tear apart what she had with Jack. He could not do that to her. But Q was right, it would hurt him to go on without her. He could imagine telling her empty body that he loved her. He could imagine telling the space that swallowed her coffin that he had loved her for all the time he had known her. That those feelings had never and would never go away. He could carry that guilt along with the guilt he held over Jack, Tasha and everyone else who had died under his command.

"Jean-Luc, are you ready?" her voice echoed through his mind again, calling from the room that he could not enter.

"Jean-Luc, are you ready?" Q faded from view, taking the surround into darkness as he heard Picard's hoarse reply.

"I'm ready."

* * *

><p>"…I'm ready." Beverly was in front of him again, curling her feet onto the biobed, reaching for the hypospray on the stand. Suddenly, his resolve gave way.<p>

"Beverly, wait."

She paused, her eyes fixed upon him with the gaze he remembered.

"Jean-Luc, don't," she murmured sweetly.

"I want this to work," he didn't know how he was going to tell her, starting neutrally seemed his best option, buy some time before he revealed the secret he had been guarding for so many years.

"Don't say it," her eyes burned into him, her hand was on his thigh, her words mixing in his head to give two meanings.

"I feel the same way," she promised him in a melody that strung her words together and wove them around his heart in a pattern so strong that nothing would ever break their intention to tell him what he thought he wanted to hear, what she wanted him to hear. There were tears in her eyes that might never fall, a secret in her voice that he might never hear. "But it'll be easier if we don't say it out loud. I know," she said sadly, softly, her thoughts in perfect harmony with his own. "I feel the same way."

The repetition of her vow masked the sound of the spray being pushed against her skin, she gasped; one sharp intake of breath, falling against him, her body shuddering, then stopping as he stroked her cheek and a tear fell from his eye.

"Beverly…"

The rush of sensations that took her as she inhaled deeply and opened her eyes confused, delighted and enraptured her. She saw his arm wrapped around her, his hand resting on her ribcage, she felt his fingers with life pulsing through them as it sat unmoving on her shoulder, she looked up.

One slender hand rose and found his cheek, pale fingers traced the path of the tear that had fallen from the gallant captain's eye. She waited until she had his attention, his gaze confused, alarmed, exhilarated, met hers open and full of everything she needed to say.

"I feel the same way," she murmured softly. "I always have."

He nodded, together, their eyes closing together. Alyssa passed the doorway. It was as if for that moment, she was sleeping in his arms.

_The End_

_Because Fate blesses us all with Time_

_Fin_

* * *

><p><em>Hello, so I was going to just post and run with this last part, but I couldn't without one last huge THANK-YOU to everyone who has been reading!<em>

_Hope you have enjoyed Fateful Blessings._

_Jessie xx_


End file.
